


Unforgivable

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e10 Noël, F/M, Friendship, Pre-Episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-03
Updated: 2004-02-03
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh lashes out at Donna. Sequel to "Soap Operas"





	1. Unforgivable

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Unforgivable**

**by:** Seshat

**Character(s):** Josh and Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Angst, Friendship, Pre-Episode (Noel)   
**Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer(s):** Characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, et. al.  
**Summary:** Josh lashes out at Donna. Sequel to "Soap Operas".  
**Spoiler:** _Noel_  


Josh Lyman was doing a damn good job of pushing Donna away.

It hadn't started right away, which might have been a little easier to handle, instead, it had only recently become noticeable.

When he first returned to work, Donna had known that there would be some distance, had expected Josh to be a bit stand-offish after the closeness they had developed during his recovery.  For three months she had acted the parts of nurse, caretaker, and guardian.  C.J. had used the words "like a mother bear" in reference to the tenacity with which Donna established and enforced her "rules" intended to protect Josh.  It was only natural that a resumption of their work roles would be difficult.

So, it was a pleasant surprise in the beginning when they settled back into their old relationship fairly easily.  Their old walk-and-talks had resumed as if there had been no three-month hiatus.

Something of the intimacy that they had formed while Donna had been half-living in Josh's apartment was gone, and Donna missed it, but there was none of the strangeness that she had expected, and for that she was grateful.

But this gulf that had opened between the two of them went beyond mere awkwardness.  For the most part they continued their friendly banter, but Josh had started making hurtful comments that she couldn't ignore.

Of course, in the past he had often mocked her, but his words were never serious and almost always delivered with a smile to take any sting away, a flash of the dimples to mollify her exaggerated outrage; but this... this was getting beyond the realm of forgiveness.

It started off relatively mildly.  First there was the "You have no sense of self-worth" speech.  The words had pissed her off, but she had initially taken it in stride, tossing him a "Deputy Downer" as she breezed out to meet her date.  The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.

He had later been especially sweet.  Remorse, she thought, and forgave him, even though the comments still rankled.  Part of her forgiveness might have had to do with the fact that her head was still slightly spinning from the way his eyes had rested on her when he said that she looked good and should keep the dress.  She kicked herself for it later, hoping that he hadn't noticed how absurdly pleased by the compliment she had been.  It wouldn't be good for that colossal ego for him to be aware of his power.

The next incident had happened when he made a comment about her not doing work.  He had said it before as a joke, but it was different this time.  This time he had snapped at her for not having a piece of information that he needed.  The fact that the congressman from whom she was supposed to get the data had told her that he would not be able to give them the information until next week didn't seem to matter.  It was Donna's fault because she was always sitting around wasting time.

She was more incensed than ever when he came to her desk a few hours later, acting as if nothing had happened, asking her to do some research.

An opportunity for justification (and perhaps a bit of revenge) had quickly shown itself.  The research pertained to the process by which stamps were chosen, and research is exactly what she did.  Eighty-seven note cards she composed, each with a carefully detailed fact.

When she began to pester him with her newly obtained knowledge, it seemed like sweet funny Josh was back.

"Okay, be careful how you say that word, because..." he had replied to her assertion that philately was fun.

"Can we work?" she had interrupted, but she couldn't help the little sense of bemusement that softened her annoyance at his earlier attitude.

The rest of her aggravation had dissipated after the "Let's put you on a stamp" remark.

She was sure that the smile on her face was pretty goofy.

But the worst thing, the cruelest cut, the thing that seemed almost unforgivable had started when she had offered a tidbit from her seemingly endless supply of trivial knowledge.

They had been working late on a Friday night, going over statistics on mandatory drug testing policies in hospitals, when she had made one of her random stream of consciousness statements.

"Did you know that Goethe is considered by many to be a universal genius?"

Josh looked up at her blankly.  "Gerda?  What is she, like one of your friends?"

"Not Gerda. Goethe..."

Still the blank look.

"...You know, as in the guy who wrote Faust."

"Oh.  That's your attempt at a German pronunciation."

She put on her pouting face.  "Hey, I think my German pronunciation is pretty good.  I took-"

"Don't tell me."

"What."

"It was one of your many majors or minors."

"No..."

He waited expectantly.  "But," he prompted her.

"But I did take a class in college."

"Of course you did."  Josh's eyes focused on the papers on his desk.  He picked up a pen and began to scribble some notes in the margin.

"Wie spat ist es."

"Huh?"

"What time is it."

"Okay, now did you really want to know, because I have to say, that thing around your wrist almost uncannily resembles a watch."

"That's what I said: What time is it."

"Okay."

"In German."

"What time is it," he repeated, putting down his pen.

"Yes.  It's one of the few phrases I remember."

"And that's going to be useful when we make you ambassador to Germany.  You can wander the streets of Berlin asking people what time it is."

"I'm just saying.  I know how to pronounce Goethe."

"The guy who wrote Faust."

"Yes."

"Okay."  Apparently considering the topic closed, Josh once again returned to his papers.

"So he's considered by many to be the most universal man of genius of modern times," she persisted, "A renaissance man, if you will."

"Hm."  He didn't look up.

"Most people don't know that.  They think he was just a writer.  But in fact he studied biology and physics as well.  He made a lot of significant contributions to science."

Donna looked at his head bent over his papers.

"Of course he _was_ a great writer too," she continued, "He studied law for a time before he turned to literature.  He wrote poetry, and he directed a theatre at one point.  I think it's interesting, in a way, the depths to the man.  Most people know about his dramatic work and poetry, but I think a lot of people don't know about the other parts of his life, that he was also involved in biology and physics."

Josh still didn't respond.

"He was also-"

"Donna."  Josh interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Do I look like I'm interested?"

His abrupt tone of voice and the hardness in his eyes took her aback.  "I-"

"Because I'm not, if you weren't able to tell in your little enclosed world of minutiae.  I actually do have work to do, and frankly I don't really care to hear about some man who apparently had as much useless knowledge on as many useless subjects as you do..."

She was stunned.

"...So if you're going to ponder the _wonder_ that is Goethe instead of helping me, you might as well go do it elsewhere, because you're being a rather ineffective assistant right now," his words continued their vicious assault, relentlessly and ruthlessly, "But what else is new."

Making a mumbled comment about having to go, she jumped to her feet and backed out of the office.  Blindly grabbing her things, Donna rushed out the door.


	2. Unforgivable 2

**Unforgivable**

**by:** Seshat

**Character(s):** Josh and Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Angst, Friendship, Pre-Episode (Noel)   
**Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer(s):** Characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, et. al.  
**Summary:** Josh lashes out at Donna. Sequel to "Soap Operas."  
**Spoiler:** _Noel_  


* * *

C.J. was in the hall, checking her bag for her keys, when somebody stumbled into her, stepping on her foot in the process.

"Damn it," she swore under her breath, hopping up and down.  She looked up to find Donna standing in front of her.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, C.J., I wasn't-"

C.J. removed her shoe and examined the abused toes.  "It's okay, Donna.  Nothing's broken.  I think."  She replaced her shoe and stood up, gingerly putting some weight on it.  "What are you doing here so late on a Friday night?  Is Josh abusing you with excessive amounts of work?"  She began rummaging through her purse again.

When Donna didn't answer, C.J. looked up.  Only then did she notice how white the other woman was.  "Donna."  Still Donna stared at her silently, her lips pressed tightly together.  "Donna, what did he do?"

She didn't answer; her eyes were burning.  Whether it was anger or pain, C.J. couldn't tell.

"Joshua!"  C.J. started to yell, turning to head for his office, before Donna grabbed her arm.

"C.J., don't.  It was nothing."

"Nothing," she repeated, her eyebrows were raised skeptically.

The fire in Donna's eyes flickered out, and she wouldn't meet C.J.'s gaze.  The way her slender shoulders sagged made C.J. want to wrap Donna in a hug and rock her back and forth like a small child.  Josh, what have you done now?

"Donna, do you remember how I was when I found out Troy was going back to the turkey farm to be someone's dinner?"

"Yes."

"You look the way I looked."

"The way you-"

"Like someone killed your turkey."

That provoked a curve of the lips.

C.J. debated with herself for a moment: go find Joshua Lyman and kick his ass right now, or wait until she found out what happened... and then go find Joshua Lyman and kick his ass.

"Come on," she said, pulling on her coat and finding her keys at last.  "Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"To get some dinner.  I'm willing to bet that on top of whatever idiotic mistake Josh has made this time, he probably also forgot that you haven't had dinner yet. We'll talk."

*****

"He said what!"

Donna glanced around the restaurant nervously.  C.J.'s shriek had drawn the attention of nearby diners as well as glares from the staff.

"He basically said that I was full of useless information and I'm not that great an assistant."  She was looking at her glass of water as if it had the answers to the universe in it.

C.J. stared at her.  "He's an idiot."

"C.J."

"I mean it, Donna.  He's an idiot."

"Okay, a part of me... a part of me agrees with you."

"Only part?"

The dry tone of C.J.'s voice drew a flash of teeth.  "Okay, a big part. A big part of me is pissed off."

"Well, good."

"But-"

"No buts, Donna.  What he said was inexcusable.  I don't care how bad his day was today.  I don't care what kind of mood he was in.  He had no right to say what he did."

"It's not that I seriously believe that he really meant it..."

The doubt in her voice irked C.J. so much that she wanted to shake her.  Or shake Josh.  Or both of them together.  Yes, that was it; the two of them needed a good shaking.

"Donna, you are not saying what I'm hearing."

"C.J."

"No, because what I'm hearing is that you actually have a smidgen of doubt that you are anything other than a good assistant.  Which is a completely ridiculous idea because no one else would put up with Josh the way you do, not to mention keeping him together.  I'm just saying.  You shouldn't be a doormat..."

"C.J."

"...for him to walk all over.  I mean the man wouldn't be able to find his own ass without your help-"

"C.J.!"

There was a spark back in Donna's eyes.  Well, that was good.  If you could get a rise out of Donna, that meant she probably wasn't completely down and out.

"C.J.," she continued in a more reasonable manner, "I am not being a doormat. I know I'm a pretty good assistant..."

Not quite the ringing declaration of confidence, but a step in the right direction.

"...And leaving his ass out of this," she said with a roll of the eyes, "he is pretty hopeless when it comes to organization."

"So?"

"So we're not talking about him having a bad day.  I'm really worried about him, C.J."

C.J. looked at her.  "The 'you have no sense of self-worth' comment?"

"Yes. And other things too."

"There's more?"

"You haven't noticed anything?"

C.J. considered a moment.  "He seemed like the same old Josh when he came back."

"But what about recently."

"You know, Donna, you probably deal with him more on a day-to-day basis than anyone else."

Donna slumped in her chair, fiddling with the breadstick on her plate.  "So you haven't-"

"Noticed anything?  Not really."  She paused before adding, "But I have to put on the record that saying terrible things to you is a pretty clear indication that something is wrong."

"He's pushing me away, C.J."  Donna was biting her lip and looking down.  "He's pushing everyone away."

Around them, the drone of other conversations filled the silence between the two women.  C.J. waited.

"When he was shot..." Donna continued, "He kept having these nightmares.  I would be there, watching him as he had these nightmares, and there wasn't anything I could do except hold his hand.  After a while, it seemed like they went away.  But I don't know... I don't know if maybe he was just hiding them.  And now it feels like that.  It feels like I'm watching him have this nightmare, and I can't do anything.  It's like he's closing himself off, holding everything inside, and I'm afraid that sooner or later it's going to, to..."

"Blow up in his face?"

"Yes."

"He's an idiot."

"C.J."

"Okay, so maybe he's just acting like an idiot.  But he can't keep doing this and expect you to take it."

"That's the thing.  I don't know if he is expecting me to take it."

"You mean-"

"I mean, I think he might be trying to make me quit."

The waiter arrived with their food, and C.J. let the matter drop.

*****

Josh was sitting at his desk, wallowing in a fit of self-flagellation.

What was wrong with him?  It was like he couldn't help himself.  At times he almost felt as though he was watching while this stranger said these incredibly cruel things.

He stood up and walked over to the wall on which he had hung the picture Donna had given him while he was in the hospital.  There was the water lily, floating still, clean and quiet, above the sullied water.

It had been hard, coming back to work.  It had been hard seeing Donna every day in a context completely different from the closeness he had become accustomed to in his hospital room and apartment.  At work she was there, but she wasn't.  They resumed their old roles as if The Shooting had never happened.  Everyone had fallen back into accustomed patterns and familiar roles.

And so he too had fallen into his familiar role, repressing everything that he was feeling and thinking.  He put the anger and the hatred aside because he was back at work, and he was doing Important Things, and who had time to examine pesky little things like emotions.  He thought he was successful because it felt like that part of him went numb.  It occurred to him that maybe it wasn't such a good thing to be numb, but still it seemed like a better alternative to outright rage.

But there were times when he would step outside himself.  He would look at the others milling around and joking and laughing, and he would wonder.  Didn't they see?  Couldn't they tell that he was dead inside?  Couldn't they understand that it was just a shell of Josh Lyman that was walking around in Josh Lyman's suits?

  
Sure he sounded like Josh and looked like Josh, but there was something important missing, and no one noticed.

So he started getting angry.  Which was good, right?  Because at least he was feeling something.  And he didn't know if he was angry because everyone was getting on with their lives (C.J., Sam, Toby, Donna were all moving on, Donna was even going on dates with insurance lobbyists) while he was still stuck in that pivotal moment, or if he was just angry because none of them seemed to realize what was going on inside him.

Irrational, he knew.  He had been doing his damnedest to return to normal every day life.  How could he blame everyone for not seeing his own problems when he was trying to deny it himself?

But how could Donna not know?  Damn it.  She was supposed to be his safe harbor.  She was supposed to know him better than anyone else.

So he had taken to seeing just how far he could push her.  Which twist of the knife would make her flinch.

God, he was turning into a sadist.  He wanted to inflict pain on her since he himself apparently couldn't feel.

That wasn't what he wanted.  From the beginning he hadn't wanted to drag her into the darkness with him.  Oh, that's a good one, Josh.  You don't want to pull her into your nightmare, but it's okay to viciously cut her down in other ways?

No one ever said he made sense all the time.  Maybe it would just be better if she didn't work for him any more.

Josh dropped back into his chair and rested his head in his hands.

He was in that position when a familiar voice from his office doorway broke in on his thoughts.

"Joshua Lyman."


	3. Unforgivable 3

**Unforgivable**

**by:** Seshat

**Character(s):** Josh and Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Angst, Friendship, Pre-Episode (Noel)   
**Rating:** PG  
 **Disclaimer(s):** Characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, et. al.  
**Summary:** Josh lashes out at Donna. Sequel to "Soap Operas."  
**Spoiler:** _Noel_  


* * *

Josh didn't lift his head from his hands.  "C.J., what are you-"

"Doing here at midnight?  I took the chance that you hadn't dragged your sorry ass home yet."  She stepped inside his office as he looked up at her sharp tone.  "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: wow are you stupid."

"Okay, is that a general observation, or did I do something to-"

"Like you don't know."

"C.J., could you just... leave me alone."

Deliberately ignoring him, C.J. sat down the chair that Donna had so abruptly vacated hours earlier.  "You look like hell, Josh."

"Thank you for that astute observation."

"If I might put this bluntly..."

"You weren't being blunt before?"

"You look like someone who was horrifically mean to a kind and caring person."

His head had dropped back into his hands.  C.J. wasn't sure if she should kick him or pat him on the back.

"You talked to Donna."

It wasn't a question, but she answered it anyway.  "Yes."

"Look, what happened is between-"

"You insulted her, Josh.  And it wasn't your garden variety Josh Lyman put down.  From what she told me, and I'm thinking that the version she gave was toned down, you said some pretty horrible things."

"I know."  His voice was quiet.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?  I mean, you often piss off people in every day interaction; we've come to expect it.  But there's a line, Joshua, and I think you crossed it.  Now you've gone and hurt this incredibly thoughtful person who took care of you when you needed her."

He didn't say anything.

"Do you know what she was like when you were unconscious those first few hours?  And when they finally told us that you were going to pull through?  You should have seen it.  I never knew that one person could make that much of a difference in someone's life.  I'm not talking about sad to happy, here, Josh.  I'm saying complete and utter darkness to light.

"So do you know what it does to her when you say something cruel and thoughtless and unforgivable?"

"She's really pissed off?"

Josh's feeble attempt at humor did not distract C.J.  Her voice was dangerously calm.  "She's been here for you time and again.  But you can't expect her to be here for you forever."

"Maybe she shouldn't be here at all, then," he flared, "Maybe she should get out while she can."

"Well, unfortunately for her, fortunately for you, she seems to be, for some inexplicable reason, rather fond of you.  Which means that she'll probably take some more abuse before she comes to her senses and ditches you for some more lucrative career in which she is appreciated.

"And whether you know it or not, the fact is, you cannot get along without her."

Josh was quiet for a moment.  "I screwed up, C.J."

"No kidding, Sherlock."

A ghost of a smile flitted over his face.  It only served to accentuate the grimness and fatigue in his features.

"Which is why you're lucky..." she continued.

He looked up at her.

"...Lucky that your assistant is a more forgiving person than I am."

His eyes once again skittered away from her piercing stare.

"You can't let it go on, Joshua."

No answer.

"Do something about it?"

"I'm handling it, C.J."  His voice was terse.

A long measure of silence passed between them.

"No, Josh, I don't think you are."  She stood up, gathering her coat around her and buttoning it up.  "Okay, I'm going now because it's late and I-"

"C.J...."

His voice stopped her, and she turned to face him, her eyebrow raised in question.

"I'm sorry."

For a moment her eyes rested steadily on him.  "I think there's someone else you need to say that to."

*****

"I brought you a bagel."

The words roused Josh out of sleep.  He opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was sunlight, the second thing he noticed was the crick in his neck from sleeping at his desk, and lastly, but most importantly, he noticed Donna standing in front of him with a paper bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"A bagel."

"Yes.  I talked to C.J. and from what she said, I guessed that you would probably spend the night here and you might not have anything to eat for breakfast, and since it is the most important meal of the day, I thought I should bring you a bagel."  Her voice was stiff.

"Oh."

She set the bag and cup on his desk.  "So I'm just going to-"

"Coffee too?"  He blinked at her in surprise.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."  Her lips pressed together tightly.  She turned to leave.

"Donna."

She paused.

"I said terrible things, Donna."

"Yes, you did."  She faced him, crossing her arms.

"I didn't, I don't deserve a bagel."

"No, you don't."

"Much less coffee."

"No, you-"

"What I'm trying to say is... I didn't... Look, will you just sit down."

She raised her eyebrows at his irritated tone.

"Please," he said, in a more reasonable voice, "Donna, I want to say something here, and would you please sit down."

After a pointed hesitation she wordlessly dropped into a chair.

"What I said yesterday."  He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm.  "It was, it was..."

"Terrible, cruel, unforgivable?"

"Yes, and I don't, I can't expect you to accept any kind of apology from me.  But for what it's worth... I am sorry.  I don't think I need to tell you that my statements were patently false."

She was still staring at him, and her expression was inscrutable.  This was not good.

"And I'm not saying this in any way to excuse what I said yesterday... but those three months, when I was recovering..."

"Yes?"

"Those three months you were my crutch, my support..."

For the first time, her eyes relented a fraction.

"...I can't ask you to do it, Donna.  I can't ask you to shoulder my burden.  It's not in your job description; it wasn't part of what you signed on for.  And if you continue working for me, I'm afraid that I'm going to hurt you even more than I already have."

She froze.  "Are you firing me?"

"No," he hurriedly jumped in.  "No, God, no, of course not, Donna.  But maybe it would be better if you-"

"Josh, do you remember back during the campaign?"

"What?"  He was confused by the apparent non sequitur.

"When we first met."

"You mean when you appropriated my office?"

"Right.  And you tried to get rid of me?"

"Okay."

"You tried to convince me that it wasn't going to work.  That I wasn't going to make it..."

He remembered.

"...And I told you that I would pay my own way, sell my car, sleep on the floor, and eventually you would put me on salary."

The memory brought a smile to his lips.

"You see, I'm stubborn that way," she said, "I don't give up easily.  So even though you can be a complete jerk, I'm sticking around.  I happen to like working with C.J., Leo, and everyone else."

The fear that he would yet again hurt her lingered at the back of his mind, but selfishly he was relieved at the determination in her words.  "Okay," he replied softly.

She stood to leave, but at the door she paused.

"Josh?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know that Goethe was also a minister of state?"

The reference to their conversation yesterday made him wince, but she seemed to be unperturbed.  "No, I didn't know that."

"He was.  He had to deal with political and economic problems.  They say he was very passionate about his work."

"Oh?"

"Yes.  He was good at what he did and he was passionate about his work.  People said he was an honorable man."

He looked up to meet her eyes.  And they were filled with such compassion.

"I just..." she continued, "When I mentioned it yesterday?"

His breath caught. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say that you reminded me of him."

*****

Epilogue:

I glance back as I leave Josh's office.

He's sitting there, staring at the bag and cup on his desk.  Oh, Josh, would you eat the stupid bagel.  I swear I worry about him too much, but I can't seem to help it.

This morning I wasn't going to talk to him.  I was going to try to forget those words that were still in my head.  I was going to wait and see if he said anything.

But C.J. called and told me that she had left him feeling guilty in his office last night, and I just knew that it would be typical Josh for him to fall asleep at his desk, and when he woke up he would try to jump into some work without having anything to eat.  If I don't worry about him, who will?

So I'm glad I caved in.

He looks forlorn, and I can't help but think that this isn't the end, that he still has things he needs to work out, and I wonder whether we will make it through whatever is coming.  He said that he doesn't want me to help him shoulder his burden, but is he strong enough to shoulder it alone?

I want to stay.  I want to take his hands in mine and say, "Tell me, Joshua."  I want him to scream his anger, to tell me his fears, to cry his pain.  But I steel myself to leave.  His every word and action is a warning sign telling me to keep my distance.  The last thing he wants right now is for me to pester him some more.  And I'm afraid that if try, he will push me even farther away than he already has.

Josh, just... just eat the damn bagel.


End file.
